On the day my terminal illness took a turn for the worse, I went online and bought the cheapest succubus available. Because she didn't cost much, the little succubus I received, despite her stunning beauty, had an exceptionally bratty temper. "I will not serve you, I will not kiss you, I won't do that with you, and I certainly won't love you." "If you dare lay a finger on me, I’ll slap you to death, you filthy man—" Her voice abruptly cut off the moment she saw my face. She demanded, "You're a woman? What does a woman want with me?" I curled my lips into a gentle smile. "That doesn't matter." As the real daughter of a wealthy family who had been despised and rejected for twenty-four years, I no longer expected anyone to love me. She snorted, full of disdain. "Do you know how many times I've been returned and complained about? I excel at abandoning humans." But later, she didn't abandon me. She even worked three jobs a day, desperately trying to save me. Right up until the day I died. 01 The little succubus was still thrashing around inside the crate, throwing out vicious threats: "I'm vicious! I'll bite your junk right off, chew it up, and swallow it—" I pressed my lips together. I opened the velvet box on top and took out the key. The moment the lock clicked open, the metal lid of the crate was shoved up by a pair of pale, pristine hands. A girl with exquisite features glared at me menacingly. I could tell she was trying her hardest to look intimidating, but she had these beautiful, watery, almond-shaped eyes with slightly upturned corners. Even her fury looked like a cute pout, making you want to reach out and ruffle the soft hair on top of her head. When she got a clear look at my face, the curses dying on her lips. She stammered, questioning me: "Y-You're a woman? Why did you buy me?" I gave her an apologetic smile, speaking gently: "I'm sorry. I don't have the required anatomy for you to bite off." She immediately retorted, flushed with shame and anger, "Even if you are a woman, don't even think about making me serve you..." I didn't interrupt. I listened patiently as she listed all her rules, and when she finished, I said softly: "None of that matters." She blinked, a momentary look of confusion crossing her face. "Do you have any idea how many times I've been returned and complained about? I excel at abandoning humans." "Then abandon me." I reached out my hand to her, offering to help her stand up from the crate. "Tabby cats are also very good at abandoning humans. I heard succubi usually get new names from their owners. Can I call you Tabby?" It was such a coincidence. Eight years ago, I also wanted to adopt a little tabby cat. Unfortunately, I had to fight for the cat, and I couldn't fight my parents for it. Now, here was a living, breathing, talking Tabby standing right in front of me. The girl stared at me, unmoving, complex emotions swirling in her eyes. She suddenly turned her head away and muttered, "If I stand up, you might not want me anymore." I didn't pull my hand back. I shook my head and said, "I won't." The girl stayed silent for a long time before she finally dragged herself up, leaning against the edge of the crate. She was wearing very revealing clothes, her skirt extremely short. Other than that, there was nothing unusual about her. Her skin was flawless, her face as beautiful as a blooming flower, her figure impeccable. I looked at her, puzzled. She lowered her eyes coldly and turned her back to me. My pupils constricted. I understood. This little succubus... was a succubus with a severed tail. 02 I messaged customer service: [Is this succubus the cheapest because of her cold and stubborn personality?] The rep replied with a laugh: [Haha, of course not! That personality is actually exactly what a lot of clients want. They love buying the stubborn ones; breaking them gives them a thrill of conquest and domination.] [Dear client, this succubus was discounted because she has a physical defect.] [We implant tracking chips into their little heart-shaped tails. Once a succubus is reported lost and passes through public transit scanners, her tail sets off an alarm, and everyone pitches in to catch the runaway~] [This particular succubus ran away many times. The last time, after realizing the chip was in her tail, she actually chopped her own tail off just to escape.] My hands unconsciously balled into fists: [Didn't you guys give her any medical treatment?] They had dressed her in a pretty new skirt, completely spotless. Yet her tail was a bloody, mangled mess, with absolutely no signs of being treated. [Dear client, a succubus is basically just a high-end sex doll, isn't it? As a tool bought for a premium price to vent desires, what right does she have to freedom? The loss of her tail is a lesson that needs to be carved into her bones so she remembers never to run away again.] ... I collapsed backward onto my bed. Outside the window, the distant mountains were a hazy blue, birds were chirping, but the air in my room was dead silent. I raised my arm to cover my eyes, feeling a sting of tears. Maybe because this succubus was a girl, it was easier for me to empathize with her resistance and feel pity for her stubbornness. I sat up, walked out of my bedroom, and knocked on the bathroom door. "You've been showering for an hour. Soaking too long isn't good for you." The sound of running water continued from inside, but there was no response. I kept talking: "Your tail can't get wet, or the wound will get infected. After you change, take my phone and go to the hospital to see a doctor." "I won't go with you." It was as if I had triggered a switch. The door whipped open right in front of me. The girl looked guarded. "You're trusting me to go out alone? You aren't coming?" "No, I'm not coming." My eyes fell on the object the girl was clutching tightly in her hand. It was probably the sharpest weapon she could find after scouring my bathroom. An eyebrow razor. The girl pressed her lips together: "Why aren't you coming?" I answered casually, "I don't like the smell of hospitals." But that wasn't the real reason. It was because I suffered from a severe immunodeficiency disease. This disease made my body like a fortress without walls; any pathogen could march right in. If I went to the hospital, I'd probably catch another infection. In the final moments of my life, I just wanted the physical pain to be as light as possible. As I watched the girl leave, She took my phone and cast a complex, indescribable look back at me. I curled my lips into a smile and told her to "come back soon." Her slender silhouette slowly disappeared from my view. I stood there in a daze for a while before walking toward my art studio. With a paintbrush in hand, the pristine white canvas remained untouched by any pigment. Suddenly, a sour feeling hit my nasal cavity, and that familiar tickle washed over me like a tide. I sneezed three times in a row. I hunched over, covering my mouth, broken coughs slipping through my fingers, every breath wrapped in pain. Tears involuntarily welled up in my eyes. What was it this time? A cold? Bronchitis? Pneumonia? A gastrointestinal infection? I thought I could hold out a little longer this time. I hadn't even gone outside, yet I was infected again. It was miserable. My head was spinning, yet strangely, the thought of calling the hospital never crossed my mind. Just dying and getting it over with... seemed like a pretty good option. Buying that little succubus cost me a hundred grand. I didn't have any money left for treatments anyway. Truthfully, I could tell that the little succubus wanted to run away, which is why I gave her my phone. When I died from my illness, there would be no one to report her lost. She could be free. She wouldn't have to cut off her own tail as the price for her freedom ever again. Just then, the spare phone beside me erupted with a piercing ringtone. I forced myself to look over. The screen flashed with the word: "Mom." 03 In my hazy state, I wondered, Is this the last phone call I'll ever answer? My trembling fingertips swiped to answer. Before the other side could speak, I said calmly, "Mom, because I saved Mia, I got hurt. My condition is worsening, and I'm going to die soon." Mia... was the nanny's granddaughter, the girl who had been swapped with me at birth. When I was fifteen, I was brought back to the Vance family from a poor rural town. I didn't face the rejection I anticipated; my parents and Mia were all very nice. To welcome me home, the four of us even shared a harmonious dinner. However, that very night, Mia left a note and ran away from home. My parents were frantic and called the police, but security footage showed Mia being roughly dragged into a van by a man. Mia had been kidnapped. From then on, no matter how clumsily I tried to please my parents, that incident stood like an invisible wall of ice between us. A year later, Mia was found in a pigpen in a remote mountain village. My parents cried their hearts out. "Don't be afraid, Mia, Mom and Dad are bringing you home." But Mia, crying silently in their arms, suddenly looked up at me, her voice filled with sorrow: "She's back... I don't have a home anymore... Where am I supposed to go?" I froze instantly. Without meaning to, I had become the villain who ruined their perfect family. Desperate for my parents to just look at me with an ounce of affection, half a year ago, during an accident, I chose to save Mia. But after I was resuscitated, the doctor looked at me and sighed heavily: "You have massive burn wounds on your back. The immune barrier that was already fragile has completely collapsed. Chronic inflammation and recurrent infections will easily destroy your body." I asked, "Can it be cured?" The doctor looked away, visibly uncomfortable. And I understood. It couldn't be cured, and I was going to die a very painful death. I no longer demanded my parents' love, but surely Mia, the girl I saved, owed me at least a "thank you," right? "..." A heavy, awkward silence stretched over the phone line. Then, a cold female voice came through: "Chloe, haven't you played the victim long enough over these past ten years?" ...? My breath hitched. "If you really had Bipolar Disorder, why wouldn't the psychiatrist officially diagnose you?" "Even when making up excuses, you can't make them sound believable... Saying the Vance family wouldn't take care of you, saying Bipolar Disorder would ruin your future career—it just makes you sound stupid and malicious." "Mom genuinely hopes you can be as understanding as Mia. When she heard you were coming back, she silently ran away from home just to make room for you, unlike you... always fighting and grabbing for things... and now, threatening Mom and Dad with suicide." I let out a bitter laugh. So, she thought my mention of "dying" was just me faking a manic episode to threaten suicide. 04 Back in high school, out of kindness, the psychiatrist refused to officially diagnose me with Bipolar Disorder. She had said, "Sweetheart, Bipolar Disorder isn't like regular depression. It's classified as a severe psychiatric condition. Once you get an official diagnosis, it goes on your permanent medical record. After that, a lot of doors will close for you." "You won't pass the background checks for government jobs or military service. HR departments will heavily scrutinize you during background checks. You might not even be able to get a driver's license, or if you have one, it could be revoked." The Vance family was wealthy; they had more than enough to support me. But none of my family members liked me, and I couldn't convince myself to hand over the rest of my life to them. I wiped the uncontrollable tears from the corners of my eyes and whispered: "Thank you. Then please don't diagnose me." But later, this became ammunition for Mia to attack me relentlessly. She would press her lips together and speak softly: "Mom, Dad, Chloe is fed and pampered at home. What kind of mental illness could she possibly have?" "Did she... pay the doctor to tell you she has Bipolar Disorder? Otherwise, why wouldn't the doctor give her an official diagnosis?" I asked the doctor to explain it to my parents, but they just frowned and said coldly: "We get it." They didn't get it. They never believed me for a second. 05 After a moment of silence, I softly explained: "Mom, you misunderstood. I'm not talking about Bipolar Disorder, I'm talking about..." "Chloe." My mom suddenly called my name gently. I stopped instinctively: "Yes?" The next sentence followed immediately. She said flatly: "I don't want to hear it." That one sentence brought tears straight to my eyes. It felt like a knife had been plunged into my chest, twisting the blade. I said, "Then don't hear it." The line went dead immediately. Why was the sunlight streaming through the window so blinding? The air in the art studio felt like ice again. Tears blurred my vision. I curled up on the floor in exhaustion, then quietly closed my eyes. Every breath tugged at the sharp pain deep in my chest. But everything was becoming blurrier and more distant. Until an anxious, clear voice broke into my ears: "Human, why are you on the floor!" 06 After hanging up, Mrs. Vance kept frowning in silence. Until Mr. Vance looked up and asked, "What did Chloe say? Isn't she coming to Mia's birthday party?" "I was so mad I forgot to bring it up! That girl has been faking Bipolar Disorder for nine years! I couldn't bear to expose her, and she actually plans to keep up the act! Oh, and that excuse about the Vance family not taking care of her—it’s absolutely ridiculous." Mia, standing nearby, pursed her lips and chimed in timidly: "Dad, Mom, I transfer money to Chloe via Venmo every month. I showed you the transaction history, right?" "Yes!" Mrs. Vance huffed in frustration. "Tens of thousands of dollars, isn't that enough for Chloe to spend?" Mr. Vance rubbed his temples and sighed. "She just thinks we favor you, Mia, and insists on provoking us like this. But she’s so immature. Half a year ago, she actually dared to push you into the fire, leaving you with a burn scar on your arm. A girl's appearance is everything." Mia obediently massaged her father's shoulders. "Dad, let's not talk about that. I never wanted to fight Chloe for anything..." The pity in Mr. and Mrs. Vance's eyes deepened. After a long silence, Mr. Vance suddenly said: "In a blink of an eye, Chloe is almost 25, and she still refuses to get close to us. As parents, constantly battling with our child isn't a solution." Mr. and Mrs. Vance exchanged glances, their expressions softening. "In July, on the day of Chloe and Mia's shared birthday... let's go find her, give her a surprise, and coax her a little." "And we should make her apologize to you, Mia. Mia, what do you think?" Mia's fingernails dug into her palms as she forced a smile: "Sure." 07 When I opened my eyes again, the smell of disinfectant filled the air. I turned my head slightly and saw the little succubus curled up in a chair beside my hospital bed. My throat was parched, and I asked her hoarsely: "You... you didn't abandon me." The girl awkwardly turned her head away, the tips of her ears turning pink, but she blustered a defense for herself: "If I kept running, I'd just get caught again. Cutting off a tail hurts a lot, and there'd be no one left to pay for my medical bills." I really should have just died. Now look, I didn't have enough money to treat both of us. "Cough." I covered my mouth and coughed lightly, pulling back the covers to get out of bed. "Let's go back. I can't afford to stay here." Before the words fully left my mouth, the girl pushed me back onto the bed in disbelief: "Are you crazy? You can afford me but you don't have money for medical bills? If you don't want treatment, just say so." "I don't like hospitals. I've been here too many times." I wearily lowered my eyelids, staring blankly at the snow-white sheets. After a moment of silence, the girl's muffled voice suddenly sounded: "Fine, let's go back and I'll serve you, but let's get one thing straight." "I hate people bossing me around. If you want me to help you, you have to say a lot of nice things. If someone is rude, I'll literally dump a bowl of food on their face." I was slightly taken aback and said softly, "Actually... you don't have to go out of your way to take care of me." Over all these years, I had long gotten used to taking care of myself. I often came down with random respiratory infections; I was a regular at the hospital. Registering, paying, waiting... all by myself. I knew the routine by heart. Except for that one time. Right after I registered and turned around, I saw my biological parents and my adoptive parents clustering around Mia—who just had a common cold—like she was the center of the universe. They didn't even have to wait in line; they went straight in to see the doctor. I clutched my thin registration slip tightly, barely able to breathe. Because I even had to earn my own money for medical bills. Living was so exhausting. I often thought about just giving up and dying out of spite. But... an unloved child dying doesn't hurt their family in the slightest. Now I was truly dying. This was probably what they had been hoping for all along. 08 The scenery outside the car window rolled past at a steady pace. Our small suburban town wasn't big; a ten-minute drive brought us from the hospital to my doorstep. After that fire, I moved back to the small town, to the house my grandmother used to own. This modest little suburban house made it seem like the $100,000 I spent on the succubus was fake money. "Human, you... why do you live in such a poor place?" The people who could afford succubi were usually insanely rich or powerful. By comparison, my house looked extra pathetic. However. I squinted slightly at the girl helping me out of the car: "This is the second time. Why do you call me 'human'? It's weird." The girl looked around guiltily and mumbled, "...I don't want to call you 'Master.'" I sighed: "Tabby, I don't need you to call me that. You can just use my name, Chloe." "..." Tabby froze. The hand supporting my arm tightened silently. Because the fight had gone out of me, I had become completely indifferent. Along with that, I lost the desire to take my medication. I hate bitter things. I'm actually terrified of pain and absolutely loathe taking pills. I'd rather swallow ten flavorless capsules than let a single bitter pill touch my tongue. Seeing me like this, Tabby panicked. She dashed into the kitchen like a gust of wind, returning shortly with a bowl that she shoved in front of me. "If you mix it with sugar water, the pills won't be as bitter, right?" I lowered my eyes. In the bowl, the white sugar sediment was slowly dissolving in the water. It felt like something gently nudged my heart—sour and soft. In the past, my grandmother used to force me to take medicine by pinching my jaw and pouring it down my throat. But after she died, no one in the world cared whether I took my medicine or not. Trying to shake off those thoughts, I shook my head. "Don't bother, Tabby. It might... mess with the medication's effectiveness." I paused. "Besides, I'm a weirdo. I hate bitterness, but I don't really like things too sweet, either." The girl standing in front of me remained silent for a moment before suddenly leaning in close. Her breath brushed against my face. Instinctively, I tried to pull back, but she firmly grasped my shoulders. "Don't move." Those beautiful eyes stared straight into mine, carrying a strange, captivating allure. "This is a special succubus ability, called 'Infatuation'... If I stare at you long enough, you'll be charmed." Under my astonished gaze, Tabby raised her index finger and gently tapped my forehead. A subtle, pale pink aura instantly gathered around her fingertip. Tabby ordered with a cold expression, "Chloe, be a good girl and take your medicine." The next second, as if under a spell, I actually reached out and took the pill and the glass of water she offered. I put the bitter pill in my mouth, and magically, it tasted faintly sweet. As Tabby pulled her finger back. That little bit of pink aura vanished as if it had never existed. Just then, the girl's voice suddenly broke the silence, carrying a hint of imperceptible awkwardness. "Chloe, I... I just formed a contract with you for exactly one minute. Since you took your medicine, I cancelled it." She glared at me, aggressively emphasizing, "No human can form a contract with me! I will never be bound to anyone! Don't even dream about it..." The sunlight streamed through the window, falling on her cheeks, which were flushed red from embarrassment. I suddenly couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Thank you..." Tabby glanced at me, stunned, then quickly lowered her head and started fiddling with the hem of her shirt. Trying to look incredibly busy. But I clearly saw the corners of her mouth quietly, swiftly curve upward. Suddenly, she looked up again, her dark, beautiful eyes staring unblinking at me: "Right, what disease do you have that requires so much medicine? It's not cancer, is it?"
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